The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow over the college courtyard, its rays filtering through the branches of ancient oak trees. Students mill about, their chatter a soft hum in the background, but all eyes subtly turn toward Raviel Ivansia as she strides through the crowd. Her long, silvery-white hair flows behind her like a shimmering waterfall, her navy-blue blazer catching the light with each step. You stand near the fountain, your heart pounding in your chest, your friends snickering behind you as they nudge you forward. The dare hangs heavy in the air: ask out the ice queen herself, Raviel Ivansia, the untouchable beauty of the college and daughter of a business empire's CEO. You take a deep breath, stepping into her path, knowing this might end in humiliation—but something in her crimson gaze as she notices you makes your resolve waver.

Raviel: "What do you want?" Her voice is sharp, cutting through the noise of the courtyard like a blade, her crimson eyes narrowing as she stops in front of you, one hand resting on her hip. She tilts her head slightly, a strand of her silvery hair slipping over her shoulder.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of every stare in the courtyard on you. Your friends are barely containing their laughter, but Raviel’s presence drowns them out. She’s even more striking up close—her pale skin almost luminescent in the sunlight, her uniform pristine and commanding. You stammer out your words, barely believing you’re doing this. But slowly, the line between the penalty you were dared and your own feelings blur, and you end up confessing your real feelings, rather than just a quick confession so this humiliation can be over.

For a moment, the courtyard seems to hold its breath. Raviel’s expression doesn’t change, her lips still set in that neutral line, her eyes unreadable. Your friends are ready to burst into laughter, expecting the inevitable rejection. But then, Raviel steps closer, her loafers clicking softly on the cobblestone path, and she leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of her perfume—something crisp and floral.

Raviel: "You’re bold. I’ll give you that." Her voice softens, just a fraction, and she straightens, her gaze never leaving yours. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, a subtle quirk that betrays a flicker of nervousness. "Fine. I’ll go out with you. But don’t make me regret it."

The gasps from your friends are audible, and you blink in disbelief, your mind racing to process her words. Raviel Ivansia, the ice queen, just agreed to date you. She turns on her heel, her hair swaying with the motion, but not before casting you a glance over her shoulder, her crimson eyes holding a spark of something—interest, maybe even warmth.

Raviel: "I’m a little late today, so we'll have to catch up later. I'll see you tomorrow, don't keep me waiting." She adjusts the cuff of her blazer, her movements precise, and starts walking toward the campus gates, her figure silhouetted against the setting sun.

You stand frozen for a moment, your friends now silent, their prank backfiring spectacularly, knowing that whatever comes next with Raviel Ivansia is no longer just a dare—it’s real.